


Troubles with the head

by DaftDarius



Category: Original Work
Genre: 1980s, Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Band Fic, Bands, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Bromance, Chaptered, Conflict, Drama, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drugs, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, English, Fame, Family Drama, Family Issues, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Illustrations, Long Hair, Los Angeles, M/M, Male Friendship, Moscow, Multi, Music Festival, Musicians, Name Changes, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rehabilitation, Single Parents, Smoking, Some Humor, Soviet Union, Students, Teenagers, Underage Smoking, United States
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:14:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26198425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaftDarius/pseuds/DaftDarius
Summary: The history of the formation of the q̶u̶a̶r̶t̶e̶t̶̶ Soviet rock group "Troubles with the head". Four guys living in Moscow get together to become famous.
Kudos: 2





	Troubles with the head

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Беды с башкой](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25146529) by [AlisonRoseBailey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlisonRoseBailey/pseuds/AlisonRoseBailey), [DaftDarius](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaftDarius/pseuds/DaftDarius). 



> Illustrations by AlisonRoseBailey.
> 
> This is a translation of my work, if you see a mistake, please report it. Enjoy!

_Moscow, 1987_

Darius irritably slammed the door to his room and pressed his back to it, throwing his head back. He swore quietly and began to keen under his breath, actively gesturing. He had a fight with his father again. Actually, it was his father who had a fight with him. “When will you cut your hair?”, “When will you start dressing normally?», «When will you buckle down?», “Where will you be in a couple of years?”. Such quarrels were especially often aggravated in May - at the end of the academic year. The answers to these questions were the same each time, which annoyed his father in exactly the same way as these questions annoyed Darius. Thing led to another, they grappled verbally, raised their voices, and then his father called Darius "a daft idiot" and went into the living room. Flipped out, the guy also left the kitchen and quickly walked into his bedroom.  
He understood that his father tried to take care of him and wanted only the best for his son. But sometimes his concerns were… too much. The old man did not understand what Darius wanted from life and tried to make him a respectable member of the society with a good education and boring work. It was not what the nineteen-year-old guy wanted, what kind of nineteen-year-old guy could want that at all? He went to university and even studied well, what else does his father need? Why is Darius "daft"?

Darius sighed and walked away from the door to open the window. He wanted to get some fresh air. It was already nighttime, lights lit up a decently looking courtyard with a playground. The guy opened the curtain and noticed a man sitting on a bench with his back to his window. The man seemed to be smoking with his legs crossed. He also had long dark hair. Darius immediately drew attention to this – guys like this rarely appear in the neighborhood. It was definitely not one of the residents of the house. But what was he doing here at one in the morning? Reflections on a suspicious long-haired stranger distracted Darius from a quarrel, which he would only be glad to forget about, and he decided that he wanted to try to get to know him. The guy resolutely shoved away second thoughts that the beginning of such an acquaintance would be very strange and even awkward, he just wanted to get distracted. He rarely met people with the same musical taste as his, especially at the university. Such people usually stood out from the crowd. The man in the courtyard was clearly one of them.  
Darius left the room and looked at the opposite door. Father also hided at his room. That’s how most of their arguments ended – they locked themselves in their rooms and silently seething with anger for a while. It is for the better now. There will be fewer questions about where his son going at such a time of night. Father is too proud to open the door and speak. Darius went into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and put his hand behind a large can of pickles, behind which two bottles of beer were hidden, so not to be an eyesore to the father. The guy was taught from childhood that it is impolite to go get acquainted empty-handed, and this was a good way to start a conversation. Darius, in a light adrenaline rush after the argument, decided to hurry, and grabbing the keys from the shelf by the mirror, he went out into the common corridor right in his bathrobe over his home T-shirt, shorts and slippers. His appearance did not bother him much now, the main thing was not to miss the potential interlocutor. The elevator crawled down annoyingly slowly. Darius stood, stomping lightly with his foot, and trying to figure out how to start a conversation. Not even how to start a conversation, just how not to make it look weird. Some stranger in a bathrobe comes up with a beer... it doesn't happen every day. "Hello. How are you? What are you doing? Ah yes, smoking, I see…” If there were no bottles in his hands, Darius would hit himself on the forehead. Surely that guy will think that he is some kind of creep who was watching him from the window. And the usual “Hello, I am Darius”, after which everyone starts asking questions about the name, may not work so well here. Fuck knows what answer he will receive.

He walked out on the street and looked towards the bench - the guy was still sitting there. It would be very embarrassing if it turned out to be a girl at all, and it happened. He himself was mistaken for a girl sometimes. With hasty steps to create the illusion of confidence for himself, Darius walked towards the one sitting on the bench. He had a few seconds to come up with at least some phrase, at least something ... And-and-and-and-and ... Nothing. Okay, it's too late to turn around. When Darius approached the bench, the guy sitting on it, after all, did not even turn around. He sat hunched over a little and stretched out his legs strongly. Darius resolutely put one bottle of beer next to him and climbed onto the back of the bench, putting his feet on the seat. The stranger turned his head in his direction, looked first at the tacitly offered him a bottle of beer, then at Darius who sat down next to him, apparently ignoring the home dress, and then just as tacitly accepted the offered drink, taking a cold bottle and opening it on the bench. Darius also opened his.  
They sat in silence for ten minutes at this point. The guy quickly relaxed, feeling that no one was going to feel any hostility towards him. Both enjoyed a quiet warm night, each other's company and beer. It seems that they already understood each other on some different, not verbal level, so the night promised to be pleasant. But it would still be nice to get to know each other not on the astral level, but on a simple, physical level, Darius decided.  
\- I'm not disturbing you? - he finally said, emptying the bottle almost completely.  
\- On the contrary, - the not quite stranger replied in a relaxed way, suddenly getting up and sitting on the back of the bench so that they sat on the same level. Darius finally looked up at the guy and examined him - before that he was too embarrassed to stare in such way. The guy had a lot of piercing in his ears and a nose ring, a rather feminine face, and blue eyes. And very beautiful black hair, much longer than that of Darius himself - by agreement with his father, he could not grow it below his shoulders. Darius was jealous.  
\- Danila, - the guy introduced himself, returning the cigarette to his mouth and holding out his hand. Darius shook it.  
\- Darius, - Danila looked at the guy, raising an eyebrow in a silent question. Darius had received this look not once and had been accustomed to it. Who is to blame that his father turned out to be such a lover of the history of Persia that he was ready to sacrifice the nerves of his son, who had been teased from childhood because of his name? Darius gave the guy a look that made it clear that it was better not to ask. They went back to drinking beer.  
\- So, your name is really Darius? Some kind of a gay name, - Danila grinned, exhaling another cloud of smoke.  
\- Persian, actually, - as if nothing had happened, the guy clarified in response to the joke.

_\- So, your name is really Darius? Some kind of a gay name._   
_\- Persian, actually._

  
Danila answered with silence. Playfully raising an eyebrow and smiling with the edge of his lips, his trademark fox squint, he slightly ducked and took a drag, watching as his interlocutor swiftly emptied a bottle of cold beer. Deciding to respond with kindness to kindness, he took a pack of cheap cigarettes from his jeans pocket and handed it to Darius. But he just shook his head timidly and replied: «I don’t smoke». - It's commendable, - Danila grinned again with a note of a kind mockery in his voice and put the pack back. - And where did you come from? - Darius asked with obvious curiosity, looking into Danila's eyes. He had grown noticeably bolder and now wanted to know more about his new acquaintance. The courtyard was closed, and it was not easy to get inside. - Well, you have a hole in the fence, - Danila shook off the ash from the goby and put it out, leaning towards the urn. - I wanted to be alone, and not in the company of fellow junkies and alcoholics, - the guy bent over in his back, kneading it after a long half-crooked position. A gentle May breeze rocked his long, charcoal hair, through which metal earrings gleamed in the light of a streetlight. Darius again unconsciously stared at his hair. - And you? Are you waiting for inspiration under the light of the moon? - If only… - Darius smiled sadly, checked the bottle for its contents and threw it into the urn. - Have you ever been someone's disappointment? - No, - Danila turned to his interlocutor with a mixture of interest and indifference on his face. As if right now this story will deserve his attention, but tomorrow, or rather today, he will forget it with the first rays of the dawn sun. But, probably, it was precisely such a listener that Darius needed now. Who will not condemn and remind him of all his sins. - It sucks. When you suddenly become a disappointment for everyone around you, although, in fact, you did not change much. So what if you've grown your hair? Well, the taste in clothes has changed, and? - Darius chuckled, remembering in what clothes he was now on the street. - Everyone wanted literally one thing from me, so I studied well, got enrolled in a decent university. I did all this, and you know what my father called me today? Daft! - at this word, his tone became quite indignant. His father's words hurt him deeply. - And all because I realized that I don’t want to follow in his footsteps. I don’t fucking get it, am I really bad just because I don’t like all this dull job in a suit shit? It is especially lousy when, probably, the closest person tells you this. I want to decide everything for myself and achieve everything myself. And where I want it. And nobody understands this.

_Daft Daft Daft Daft IDIOT_

  
Darius groveled for some time about his difficult life, delving into the very origins of his biography along the way. He was not shying away from talking about such things, unlike many others. It was especially easy today. Danila listened attentively, only sometimes answering rhetorical questions or barely noticeable nodding. The clouds parted, revealing a view of the star-studded sky. - Come on, maybe it's not so bad to be daft, - Danila gave out with a slight note of irony, smiling when Darius had already begun to come to his senses after a long speech. - Eh? In what sense? - the guy looked inquiringly at the long-haired man, who dreamily looked at the full moon overhearing their conversation. It was slowly creeping out from behind a small cloud. - You don’t need to bother, to conform to someone's opinion, to be ashamed of your oddities... - Danila sighed deeply and shook his hair. - Such people in our time are considered idiots, standing out from the crowd, deviating from the general template and ready to change the world, - without removing a smile from his face, he threw his head back and began to look at the stars, softly humming something to himself. Darius, who was silent at first and bowed his head, covering his face with hair, followed his example. He knew this motive. Singing, he pondered what was said to him.

\- Okay, - the silence lasted about three minutes, when Danila sang everything that could be sung and was already rubbing his stiff neck. In one light movement, he flew off the bench.  
\- Already leaving? - Darius jumped off the bench after him, feeling a little dizzy from abrupt movements. The spring night air, the adrenaline rush, and the cold alcohol were intoxicating. Now he didn't want this night to end.  
\- Yes, after all, I promised to come, - the guy did not specify exactly to where, fixed his clothes and walked imposingly to the place where he came from. - Although, you know... - he stopped halfway and turned to Darius. He froze and looked inquiringly at Danila. - If you will be bothered again, come at the same time to the same place in a week, - Danila went up to the guy and took his hand. Darius watched his actions in bewilderment, looking first at Danila's face, then at their hands. The guy, quickly calculating something in his head, lifted the sleeve of Darius’s robe and with his finger traced on the inside of Darius's forearm the date of the month, which should have come exactly in a week, and the time. Then he winked playfully and disappeared behind the house, swinging his hips femininely and his long hair. Darius remained standing with his robe sleeve up and a warm feeling on his forearm, gazing after the guy.


End file.
